


"i did not die, and yet i lost life's breath"

by the_nerd_youre_looking_for



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apocalypsn't, Attempted Murder, Gen, Kidnapping, M/M, Torture, adam doesnt end the world, and meanwhile zira is Anxiety, because he just doesnt want to be responsible for his 1 friend dying, because why would his bff lie to him?, bro its just sad, i mean crowley wouldnt ever know until it's too late huh, we've seen that crowley trusts zira so much so he would just assume it's holy water, what if it wasnt actually holy water tho, what if my dudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-08-13 17:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20178196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nerd_youre_looking_for/pseuds/the_nerd_youre_looking_for
Summary: "The holiest"Well, as far as tap water could be holy, Aziraphale thought.





	1. little white lies

**Author's Note:**

> But like what if Aziraphale just didn't want to risk Crowley getting killed by the holy water he gave him either on accident or on purpose so he just gives him some sink water and when Hastur and Ligur come to collect him, Ligur doesn't get killed and Crowley gets kidnapped or sum shit
> 
> Title is from Dante's Divine Comedy

_"The holiest"_

Well, as far as tap water could be holy, Aziraphale thought. There were too many risks involved with giving Crowley any actual holy water. The least of which would be the business with head office. They were sure to be alright with giving some holy water to a demon, they might think he'd become actually competent after all these centuries. That wouldn't exactly be _difficult _to work with, no, quite the opposite, but it would make him feel something awful. 

The second problem with it was what it could be used for. Crowley had made the request about a hundred years ago, and he just had to refuse. To give his friend something that could destroy him...he couldn't. The demon had denied him wanting it for suicide, but Aziraphale tends to be a worrier. Even if it wasn't, there were too many variables. What if he just happened to drop the thermos one day and the holy water splashed all over him? Even just one drop would do the trick. Or what if he did need to use it against other demons and some happened to hit him too? Aziraphale wouldn't be able to deal with having handed his friend the instrument of his destruction. 

But it turns out Crowley was dedicated to this cause. He'd just so happened to hear about a church caper, organized by a charming redhead who wore sunglasses all the time, even at night. It hadn't taken much guesswork as to who _that _might've been. This was also dangerous and set off Aziraphale's anxiety like nothing else. This could go wrong in a number of ways. If Crowley so much as brushed against a drop of the holy water during this little heist, he'd be done for. And all Aziraphale would hear of it was the man with the funny haircut who seemed to melt away during a church robbery in the newspaper. Or not even that. Maybe the humans wouldn't even believe it enough to put it on the news, and Aziraphale would live the rest of his life wondering where on earth Crowley had gotten to. Or he'd wonder until Heaven sent him a little note praising him for finally eliminating the demon Crowley and now that he isn't there, well, he doesn't even have to be on Earth anymore, does he? _That _would be unbearable. 

So, all he did was just fill up a thermos from the sink in the back of his shop and take a quick pop over to Crowley's Bentley. All that stood in his way was trust.

_"Perhaps one day we could, I don't know. Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz"_

If it was depression motivating all this, it might be good to give him something to look forward to. After the fight in St. James's Park, Aziraphale had read everything he could on depression and suicidal tendencies and mental illness. Truth be told, there wasn't a lot of it at the time. But what he did learn about supporting someone with a mental illness, he vowed to put into practice with Crowley. Unfortunately, a week or so later, the demon had gone down for his century-long nap, and what could he do about that? He did pop over to his place a couple times, check up to see if everything was alright and to clean up the place a bit. Make sure no one tried to sell it. 

And it wasn't like he _didn't _want to spend time with Crowley. A picnic and dinner at the Ritz with him sounded like a wonderful time, and he would very much enjoy doing it. Ideally, as many times as possible. But Aziraphale couldn't enjoy anything with Crowley if he got himself killed. No more secret meet-ups, no more teasing remarks, no silly fights about silly things, no more nights in his backroom drinking more than any human possibly could. These little moments were too precious to him, he simply couldn't risk losing them. It'd kill him. He couldn't risk losing _Crowley_, more like. He could do all of those things with anyone he found on the street, but they wouldn't mean so much if it wasn't his friend. 

_"You go too fast for me, Crowley"_

Aziraphale could've meant the driving or them. He mostly meant them, but he'd intended to make it sound like it was about his madman driving. That mostly failed.

He wasn't an idiot, at least not about love. He was an angel, he could sense it. And he could sense the waves of love coming off Crowley unlike anything else. If he had to admit it, he felt very much the same about the demon, but he wouldn't admit it. For himself, admitting it would get him in a world of trouble. Most likely, head office would just accuse him of being too soft and having been on Earth too long and station him back in Heaven to do something else. In a worst-case scenario, they might make him Fall, but besides the initial pain, he figured it couldn't be horrible. At least there he could be with Crowley without anyone breathing down his neck. Maybe Falling was a best-case scenario. Anyway, he knew how to sneak out of Heaven, so being assigned there wouldn't even be horrible. 

But what Hell could do to Crowley for loving an angel....he doesn't even want to think about it. Hell is vicious and Hell doesn't hold back. So, at least for now, Aziraphale couldn't do anything about his own feelings, and Crowley would have to ignore his own as well. Aziraphale had worried about the demon since the Arrangement, the things Hell would do just for that! 

So yes, Crowley moved a bit too fast for Aziraphale's comfort in these things. Maybe one day they could be together without prying eyes, but today wasn't it. And if Hell did come for Crowley about...whatever, Aziraphale was certain he'd be there. Crowley had helped him out of more than one sticky situation throughout history (another thing Hell could get on him for!), he needed to return the favor at some point. Of course, he hoped beyond anything that he wouldn't _actually _have to save the demon from the forces of Hell, mostly because he hoped he'd never get in trouble with the bosses down below. Aziraphale knew he wasn't entirely incompetent, he could probably fend off a demon or two. He just never wanted to see his friend in that type of trouble. Crowley didn't need holy water, as far as Aziraphale was concerned. He had an angel. 

Besides, they'd been keeping their secrets for millennia now. If Heaven and Hell hadn't caught on now, they probably never was. No reason for anyone to be going out and risking their life for a weapon that could so easily backfire on themselves. 


	2. a most inconvenient betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer had like 2 consecutive breakdowns while I was writing this and deleted all the drafts I was writing, needless to say, I'm in pain

Crowley had booked it back to his flat after his second attempt to go off with Aziraphale failed miserably. Hastur's threat had been diluted from the cartoon bunny suit he was in at the time, but the point got across the same. Hell was coming after him, and he had a limited amount of time to prepare for the shitstorm, now that just running away wasn't an option. What would the point be without Aziraphale there to be annoyingly _nice_ all the time? He formulated a plan while speeding down the roads, and came to a conclusion rather quickly. It was time to break out the big guns. Sure, he'd made his way out of loads of sticky situations before without even so much as thinking of holy water, but these were dire circumstances. The world was going to end soon, Hell was going to be on his ass any second now, and he still had to figure out his situation with Aziraphale. It was risky, and he knew it would be when the time came, but what else could he do? All he could do was hope this didn't happen a second time, because he very much doubted that Aziraphale would want to get him some more holy water for the next few hundred years at least.

Behind a sketch of the Mona Lisa (if less of the art had been about Jesus and the lot, Crowley might have enjoyed the Renaissance) was a safe. Since it was shut up and locked back in the 60s, he'd never opened it. In said safe was a ridiculous tartan thermos, a pair of long rubber gloves, and a pair of tongs. Necessary precautions, best to keep the stuff as far away from him as possible. After retrieving a plastic bucket from behind one of his less disappointing plants, he felt the weight of reality come down on him. Of course, he'd knew that using the holy water was a very likely possibility, he knew it since the 1800s. It was always there, at the back of his mind, the knowledge that one day he might have to commit one of the worst crimes he could by Hell's standards. It had just never been _real _until, all of a sudden, it was. And he knew Hell didn't go easy on criminals. 

Right. None of that. Crowley shook his head and pulled on the gloves. No regrets, no looking back, no worries. It's self-defense, surely there's something down in Hell that protects someone on that basis. Unscrewing the cap, using just the tips of his fingers, took him back to that night all those years ago. The night Aziraphale gave him the holy water. If he wasn't in love with that stupid angel before, that might've just done him in. Crowley suspects he'd feel the same if Aziraphale had asked him for some hellfire, so for the angel to actually go and get him a whole thermos full of it, even after a hundred years of being so against even the mere thought of it...well, he'd might've called it romantic if he were a stupider demon. But, as he was only averagely stupid, he didn't ever call it that, not even once. Totally. 

The "trap" was so simple he didn't even want to call it a trap. It was really just a deadlier bucket-of-water-on-the-door prank, which was why he was so proud of it. He'd be shocked if more than three demons actually knew what a prank was, let alone how to pull one off. Most seemed to think a prank was when you popped out of a closet and stabbed an unlucky associate until they discorporated. Crowley generally avoided hallways with lots of closets for that very reason. Very embarrassing, explaining exactly how you lost the other body in that situation. This was hardly sophisticated, but it would get him where he needed to be. With any luck, the holy water would hit both Hastur _and _Ligur (where one goes, so does the other). But if his luck went where it usually did, he had his plant mister ready as a bluff. It was filled with regular old water, but nobody else had to know that. And he was_ very _good at bluffing his way out of a sticky situation.

It wasn't long before he could hear their voices nearly at him. He called out a calm and collected "In here, people" and waited. If Crowley had happened to have a large window in this room, and if a window washer happened to peer in while washing, they would have seen what appeared to be a man very thoughtfully contemplating his plant mister. In truth, Crowley's heart was beating something fierce and he'd had to wipe sweat off his palms at least twice in the last few minutes. However, if there's one thing Crowley is good it, it's covering up his emotions. One last glance at the bucket atop the door frame assured him he was well out of range. That calmed him only slightly. 

The next moment seemed to happen very slowly and all too fast. The doorknob clicked as it turned. Crowley could see Ligur's face through the small opening, Hastur right behind. The door was swung open and Ligur took a confident step forward. The bucket fell, as planned. And then-

"Were you trying to _prank_ us, Crowley?" A very wet, very angry, and very much alive Ligur growled at him.

"Not even a funny prank." Hastur rasped, stepping next to his companion, also unaffected by the puddle on the floor. "No one got stabbed."

Crowley leaped out of his seat and help his plant mister out in front of him. "How are you..I mean...that was supposed to be-" 

Reality hit him like an anvil in an old cartoon. Unless, somehow, impossibly, they un-blessed the water when they definitely weren't expecting any sort of trap. Which meant Aziraphale had lied to him. It meant Aziraphale had lied to him about something he had _known _was important. It meant Aziraphale had some other sort of plans that meant he didn't get any holy water, even when he'd _told _the angel exactly what he needed it for. He was sure Aziraphale hadn't had bad intentions with it, he had been overly worried about the whole thing. But you know what they say about the road to Hell.

"What was it supposed to be, Crowley?" Hastur smirked, circling behind Crowley. Ligur dried himself off and nodded, playing along with whatever the heaven Hastur was up to.

"Supposed to be...eh...holy." Crowley felt like his brain was full of static, a feeling only amplified when Hastur grabbed him by the collar and slammed him onto the ground. He heard a small crack and hoped to whoever might be out there that he wasn't kidnapped _and _concussed. That'd just be great

"Well, well, well, looks like he was trying to kill me." Ligur chuckled and placed a booted foot on Crowley's neck. "A demon can get in a lot of trouble for that downstairs."

"They can also get in trouble for getting much too chummy with the enemy." Hastur smiled, producing a length of rope. "And for working with said enemy to stop Armageddon. Unfortunately, downstairs is just where you're going."

"Aw, you guys never even thought of tempting an angel, did you." It was stupid, but it was the best Crowley could come up with. He was focusing more on stopping the room-spinning sensations than on escaping. "Not sexy enough for it, eh lads?"

"That'll be all from you, unless you'd like your tongue ripped out." Ligur said it in such a way that made it very clear that he would be doing the ripping and enjoying it quite a bit. "We know just what you've been up to. You aren't very good at the demon thing, are you?"

Hastur finished tying his arms behind his back and Ligur stepped off. "Right. Let's go." Hastur said, too much enthusiasm in his gravelly voice. He grabbed a fistful of Crowley's hair and dragged him behing, Ligur following closely. 

Crowley shook through some of the shock and panic to conjure up a brief note to Aziraphale, if he ever came checking his flat. He was still upset with the angel, how could he not be? A hundred years he tried to get holy water, a hundred years for Aziraphale to get it through his thick skull that he needed it for protection, not suicide. But he knew how Aziraphale was, and he'd get himself all worked up if the world didn't end and he couldn't find Crowley. Last thing the earth needs is a panicky angel. Apparently that's the last type of angel Crowley needed, but it's what he was stuck with. And for the first time in his immortal life, he wished, just a little bit, that a part of Aziraphale was different.

~*~

Aziraphale had been popping in and out of reality for the past minute or so, searching for Crowley. There was very important information about the whereabouts of the Antichrist he needed to deliver, information he should've told him sooner. But the past is the past, and he can't do anything about it now. But, unable to find Crowley, and already worked up about the world ending, he'd decided to look for a body to inhabit for the time being. Being discorporated is _such_ a nightmare, especially when you've got no time to wait for a new body. Really a dreadful situation.

After a few more moments, he happened upon a receptive body and jumped on it like a cat to a laser dot. Crowley or not, the world wasn't going to not end itself, and he really did need to get on over to Tadfield. Maybe Crowley would meet him there after he's finished with whatever business he was caught up with. It must be awfully important, Aziraphale thought, shooing away the very confused houseguests. If he's got to deal with it when the world's about to become the largest battlefield in all history.

A few miles away, in an abandoned flat, a very important note went unread by a very important angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Zira wasn't able to protect Crowley like he thought he would. Funny how it works out, isn't it


	3. surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley continues to be in a pickle, and Aziraphale receives two rather nasty surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruh I can't write summaries

Being in Hell is, at best, not an ideal spot to be in. At its worst, well, it's Hell. It's the worst spot to be in. Being in Hell when the bosses are angry with you is worse than just _being_ in the worst spot. Unfortunately, Crowley found himself in the latter situation.

On the way down, Crowley had a lot of time to think. Most of his mind was preoccupied with a growing list of why being dragged is the worst form of transportation imaginable and should be illegal. The other parts of his mind were devoted to his anxiety. The facts of this situation were that he was in trouble with Beelzebub for trying to stop Armageddon with an angel, and that Beelzebub was a nightmare to be around when they were angry with you. They didn't get to be Prince of Hell for nothing. The facts weren't giving him much room for optimism, even though he tried to be almost always. His best case scenario, currently, was that everyone would be so busy preparing for the end of the world that he'd be given a number and told to wait in line while they finished all that business. His worst case scenario is that they spray him down with holy water upon arrival. And, since it's a _worst _case, Aziraphale would also probably be there, for some reason or another. The likely scenario is somewhere in the middle, probably. They might just get some angel to bless a hose or something to get rid of him easily enough. 

"Look alive, sunshine." Ligur's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "We're here." 

Hastur pulled him up into a kneeling position, and Crowley got his first good look at where he was. He was in front of Beelzebub's throne, the demon in question smirking down at him. Dagon was standing straight and stiff next to the throne, holding a stack of papers. Hastur and Ligur took their places by the throne. In general, everybody looked very pleased to be in this situation. 

"What's the problem here, lads?" Crowley started, trying for a nonchalant tone. 

"We've gotten word that you've been up to something. And we have seen for ourselves." Beelzebub spoke. "Hastur, tell the traitor what you saw in the fields of Megiddo." 

Hastur nodded and stepped forward, a sick type of glee lighting up his black eyes. "The American ambassador and his family came." He said, clearly savoring the moment. Crowley always thought he was a bit of a suck up. 

"In that case, I don't see the problem."

"But there was something missing. And that something was the hellhound. You've got us the wrong boy, Crowley."

"Aw, well, that must've been the humans then. You know how they are, can't trust them with anything. The actual Antichrist is out there, I'll bet." 

Beelzebub leaned forward and rested their chin on an open palm. "That isn't all. Not only have you ruined the plans for Armageddon that had been set since the Beginning, we've received information from upstairs."

Crowley made himself smile naturally, and offered a shrug. "Really now, we're trusting angels? Seems a bit dangerous."

Dagon flashed her fangs in what might barely be qualified as a grin. "Why, I believe you started the trend. With your little angel boyfriend."

That one made his blood run like ice water. He was aware they knew about the whole Antichrist situation. He suspected they probably knew he wasn't the evilest demon in all nine circles. But he'd been so _careful _about Aziraphale, he'd taken precautions against this exact scenario happening. Maybe it hadn't looked like he was careful, maybe he had seemed brash and open to the angel, but it really wouldn't be his cup of tea if Hell caught wind of it. And they'd caught wind, alright. 

"No excuses this time, traitor." Beelzebub smiled, their flies in an absolute frenzy. "Anything else we'd like to add?"

"He tried to kill me." Ligur stated, eyes glued on Crowley. "With holy water." He chuckled at the shocked looks that drew out.

"How did you survive that?" Dagon's wide gaze flicked from Crowley to Ligur. 

"Turns out it was regular water. But he thought it was holy. Even the nastiest demon down here wouldn't dare."

Beelzebub nodded, expression grim. "Looks like his little angel friend isn't the most trustworthy, is he Crowley?"

Crowley just shrugged again, trying to keep his face blank. What on Hell, Heaven, or earth could he do? He could disappear himself somewhere else, but they'd just find him again. He could try to fight them, but that's four against one, and he's never been much of a fighter. 

"Don't worry." Dagon cooed, sickeningly sweet. "We aren't going to kill you."

"Yet." Hastur interjected.

"Right, we'll decide after the war." Beelzebub propped their feet up on one arm of the throne. "For now, we're just going to lock you up. It's precautionary, you understand. We can't have you messing our victory up." They waved a hand in Crowley's direction. "Someone find an empty closet or something. Get some chains that'll hold him better, we don't want him escaping." 

Hastur hoisted him up by his hair again, and Crowley prepared himself for more dragging when Beelzebub's eyes lit up with a thought.

"And for Satan's sake, get rid of those stupid sunglasses."

~*~

Much to Aziraphale's delight, the world didn't end. The Antichrist boy, Adam, was neither good or evil. He was entirely human, and simply didn't want the world to end. He and his friends got rid of the Horsemen fairly easily, and some last-minute intervention by the woman Crowley had run over and her new boyfriend had disabled the bombs that were ready to go off all over the world. Of course, Gabriel and Beelzebub had had some words with the boy, but Aziraphale stepped in to help him and to confuse the two bosses a bit. Satan himself did show up, which was almost enough to make Aziraphale panic entirely, but that Adam had an idea for everything. He made it so Satan wasn't his father, and never was. Therefore, he was technically not the Antichrist, so the world could keep on going. All rather touching, in his opinion. 

However, to his dismay, Crowley had not shown up. Aziraphale had figured he had something to do, or else had ran off to live among the stars. If he had business to do, he was nearly certain it would have been over by the world's end, but he was wrong there. And Aziraphale knew Crowley wouldn't actually go run off to space. Call it a hunch, or simply knowing the demon too well for either of their goods, but he had a feeling that the far reaches of space were Crowley-free. 

It really was a dreadful situation, his friend's absence. The longer he thought of it, the more a gnawing pit of anxiety opened up in him. He hadn't had time to _thoroughly _search the demon's usual haunts while he was without a body. Maybe another look around would calm him down. Yes, that would be it, he just had to look again, and he'd find Crowley back at his flat or in the backroom of his bookshop or he'd be nearly flattened by a speeding Bentley, and it would be just right. It would be an awful shame to have on major crisis averted only to have the other one rear its head. One crisis is generally enough for him.

There's a certain sort of emptiness one feels when something they've loved dearly gets ruined. Aziraphale had felt this way about his clothing enough times for anyone, but it was a style he'd loved and had kept the outfits in perfect working order for about a century now. But with his clothing, it was regular wear and tear. Just a rip here or a loose button there, nothing serious that couldn't be fixed with a needle and thread.

He never expected to feel that same emptiness, swallowing everything inside him, as he looked upon the charred remains of his bookshop.

It had taken him a moment to realize. Aziraphale had been stepping up to unlock the door when the smell of smoke hit him and he took a good look at his shop. Technically, he wasn't allowed to go inside, but if the few passerby miraculously didn't pay any attention to him, well, he couldn't be blamed for being curious. Curious was the wrong word for it, he thought, as he stepped inside. Apprehensive, maybe. Nervous. Scared. Praying to whoever is still listening that this is a hallucination caused by extreme stress and it's all still fine. All wonderful words to describe his current emotions. 

The exterior in no way could have prepared him to see the interior. All of his books, all of his precious first edition books were burned. He'd spent several lifetimes collecting them, and a few centuries running this store. Each book had a memory that came with it, and now he couldn't even tell which was which. As he went through, he collected the ones that were most intact, gently cradling them as he scanned the ruins of his home. Bookshelves had toppled over, spilling their contents everywhere. Other things, like the gramophone, the desk, the telephone, they weren't totally destroyed, but something told him they wouldn't work just as they had. Of course, he knew he could just miracle it all back in order. A snap of his fingers and everything would be fixed. Fixed, sure, but it wouldn't ever be the _same _as it had been. Everything had memories and you can't miracle those back. Making everything whole again would fundamentally change them, if only a little, and he'd almost rather leave everything to the ashes then do that. He stacked his small pile of salvageable books on his blackened desk and ran a hand over the surface. So many nights, sitting at this desk, preserving or restoring some old book, a cup of either tea or cocoa to keep him company, music floating from the other side of the room while the world bustled around him. He blinked away the tears that sprung up, and headed towards the back room. He came here with a purpose, he reminded himself. He tried to think maybe Crowley had gotten here before him, but that sounded more and more stale the more he thought it. Aziraphale wanted to see how badly the shop was damaged, and he very well knew it. 

He wasn't sure what he expected. The place was burned. The couch and armchairs, the little coffee table, the few small bookshelves that he put back here. Burnt. The emptiness had had its fill and was slowly turning into a cesspool of despair that Aziraphale was desperately trying to hold back. He did, however, allow himself a moment's rest as he sank into his usual chair. A cloud of ash puffed up as he sat, and he buried his face in his hands. The memories here were especially prevalent. How many nights had he and Crowley sat back here, getting drunk and talking about Heaven knows what. Anything that popped up at the moment. The last time they were here together...that was the day they realized they lost the Antichrist. The day Armageddon was set into motion. Just a week ago. Just a week ago since he unraveled the keys to finding said Antichrist at his desk. If he'd known he'd only had just a week left with his beloved shop...he isn't sure what he would've done. Perhaps moved the books. 

A sudden icy arrow of realization struck his heart as he remembered that Agnes Nutter book. The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. It had been in his shop, the only copy of it left, it had been here and it was _burned_. The only copy. Somehow, he felt personally responsible for the destruction of such a rare book, even though he couldn't have known. 

"Right, that does it." Aziraphale muttered to himself, standing up suddenly and brushing the soot off his pants. It was clear from the start the Crowley was definitely not in his bookshop, and if he stayed in here a moment longer, he was most certainly going to cry. And he couldn't be having that, now could he. He brushed the rest of his clothes off and rushed out the door, not taking a moment longer than necessary. 

He took the long way to Crowley's flat. He wasn't entirely sure _why_, but he had a lingering sense of dread and despair that seemed to be trying to eat him alive. He did his best to keep his head free from thoughts such as _it's all gone, everything is gone _and _it won't ever be the same again_. Nasty thoughts, popping into his head without his consent. Quite rude. 

The sidewalk was mostly clear of pedestrians, save one or two people walking home after a late night at the bar or club or wherever they decided to get piss drunk. A quiet, clear night, which Aziraphale would usually appreciate for a good walk, but not tonight. Not when he was buzzing with so much _emotion _and _thought _he could hardly concentrate on where he was going. Luckily, he knew the way to Crowley's like the back of his hand, and was there sooner than anticipated. 

It took a moment with the receptionist (a pleasant older woman, he would have loved to chat with her some other time) and he was on the elevator to Crowley's flat. He was almost disappointed that no one else joined him, and so he hummed along to the tune playing on the speakers to pass the eternity he spent in there. Eternity turned out to last only thirty seconds, and he was there. He hesitated, hand on the door, for a shorter eternity before pushing it open.

That was the first sign something was wrong. The door was unlocked before he even thought about unlocking it. Normally, if he came here when the door was locked, he'd knock on the door before simply miracling it to be open. Saves a person a lot of time that way, but this time it was already like that. Strange. Maybe he just left in a hurry, Aziraphale tried to convince himself. But his convincing fell flat at the second sign. The whole place felt empty. Well, it always feels empty, that comes of having hardly anything in the flat. But whenever Crowley was _there_, he could tell. And he could tell that he wasn't here.

"Crowley?" He called, regardless. Who knows, he could just be shaken from...everything. He stepped inside and there was the third sign. The door opens into what could be called a living room, if one could call a small room with a desk, chair, and television a living room. The details pieced themselves together slowly. 

One: The floor was wet  
Two: His tartan thermos was sat on the desk  
Three: A note was placed underneath it

A shiver went down his spine as the chasm inside him opened ever wider. Crowley had needed to use his "holy water". There would have been no effect, but the intent was clear. From the plastic bucket on the floor, it looked to have been used as more of a trap rather than a suicide attempt, but...well, maybe the note would clear things up. The second Aziraphale picked the paper up, he could tell Crowley had miracled it up rather than write it. Either he was in a rush or being lazy. Only reading it would clear that bit up. 

The note read:

_Aziraphale,_

_Starting this off to say I am upset with you. Holy water would have been very useful for the situation I was just in. _  
_Hell's got me. Hastur and Ligur came in and, by the time you get this, Beelzebub probably has something cooked up for me. Really, holy water would've been useful to give me the upper hand in this situation. _  
_If the world doesn't end, at least you know where I'm at. No need to fret. I expect I'll still be upset with you when you read this, doomsday or not. Whatever_

_Crowley_

Aziraphale read it once, twice, five times over. It wasn't a joke. Crowley, his friend, the person he loved, was in serious danger. Danger that could have been avoided had he had actual holy water. Aziraphale told himself over and over that night in 1961 that if anything ever happened to Crowley, he'd be there. His reasoning had been that he would be able to protect his friend by _not _giving him holy water, and the opposite turned out to be true. This all must have happened while he'd been discorporated, or else he would have been there, he knows in any other situation he would have. Just his luck. Aziraphale sat down on Crowley's chair and read the note a sixth time. Who knows what Hell could be doing to Crowley? He'd been anxious about this since they first started the Arrangement, that Hell would swoop in and hurt his friend. And now, because of him, his worst fears were reality. Because of him and his silly worries and his failure to protect his friend and his _distrust _that Crowley would be careful with it like he said he would, his friend could be in any manner of awful situations. He could be imprisoned, or being tortured, or killed. He felt as if he were standing outside his bookshop all over again, only ten times worse. This was his fault, his fault, _his fault_

He couldn't take anymore. He started to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I don't know the layout of his bookshop


	4. decisions, decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is offered a choice
> 
> EDIT: Currently dying because I forgot I didn't change the title to something Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is in here too but he's just doing his regular suffering

Being unable to keep track of time was bothering Crowley. For one, Heaven and Hell are both on a completely separate plane of existence from Earth, and he's grown rather accustomed to keeping track of time the human way. The way time works in those separate, ethereal planes is only barely comparable to the way time moves differently on a different planet. It's a little like how one year on Jupiter is twelve years on Earth, but just barely. Time in Hell is a lot more complicated then simple distances away from a major star. He was also having trouble with time because it's very hard to keep track of that sort of thing when you're chained up in a dark closet. 

He was forced to stay in a kneeling position, with his wrists shackled to the wall above his head. His wings had been forced out, and Hastur had taken great pride and joy in hammering a steel stake through them so they were stuck to the wall. And then Ligur had taken his sweet time putting a metal collar on him, attached to the wall by a short chain.

At the time, Crowley had done his best to keep his chin up and act his usual smug self. But now, alone, he let himself feel the hopelessness and pain that came with it all. He tried to stave it off by counting seconds, but he could only make it so far before losing count, getting distracted by something, or some other demon coming in, since Beelzebub "let slip" where he was to the entire demonic population of Hell.

A guy never knows just how many people he's pissed off until he's tied up and helpless to defend himself against their pissed-off selves. Crowley was sporting two black eyes, a broken and bloodied nose, plenty of bruises in various other places, and he's fairly sure a few ribs and at least one arm bone was broken. It was good he didn't need to breathe, or he'd be in much more pain than he already was. His wings had gotten the worst of the attacks, though. A demon Prides themself on how well-kept their wings are. It's often the neatest, most beautiful part of a demon's appearance. And when given the ability to ruin another's wings, most can't resist the temptation. There were bare patches all over Crowley's wings where someone had torn out feathers. Most of the fragile bones were broken from so many people snapping them or stomping on them. One bold demon had tried to cut the left one off, but had stopped midway. Crowley wondered if they were scared of retaliation later on, or just thought it crueler to leave him with a bloody gash cut into the bend. That left wing was mostly numb by now, but the right one hurt...well, like Hell. 

The only useful thing he'd learned from all this was that the world was still turning. That had managed to bring a smile to his face, and he thought about it often when he was alone. His angel had really gone and done it. He'd saved the world. Crowley felt a little spark of pride in Aziraphale, which was only snuffed when his traitorous mind brought up how much trouble he would be in for this. Crowley always understood why Aziraphale had to obey Heaven, even if it irritated him to no end. The happy, kind, and forgiving picture the humans have painted of angels was pure propaganda. Angels could be crueler than demons, if it came to it. Sure, Aziraphale could do little things like eat food and open a bookshop without much risk, but hanging out with a demon and averting Armageddon were surefire ways to get himself hurt. In his worst moments alone, he speculated just how they might punish Aziraphale. Would they brainwash him to become completely obedient? Would they destroy his bookshop? Would they lock him up and have other angels have at him, just like Crowley? 

Would they make him Fall?

Would they kill him?

Apparently, his mind was in no mood to let him be happy. 

He had counted ten minutes pass by before the door creaked open, forcing him to adjust to the light once again. He'd instinctively tensed up and put on a casual expression before he could see properly, and noticed it was just the janitor. She was crouched on the floor, picking up the feathers that had been thrown around the small area. She was always unsettling, with her deathly pale complexion and buggy eyes (quite literally. Her eyes were the same of the large moth that made its nest out of her hair). After she was finished picking those up, she grabbed a mop and bucket from her cart outside and started cleaning up his blood on the floor.

"Don't bleed so much." She said hoarsely. 

"Sorry about my bodily functions, I guess." Crowley tried to sound sarcastic, but it came out too weakly for that.

"You'd better be. Bleeding all over the damned place." She grumbled and put the mop back in its place. Crowley expected her to leave, but she fished a pipe out of her long skirt pocket and held it vaguely towards him.

"Got a light?" She asked. When he just stared blankly back at her, she sighed and scraped her index finger against the wall as if striking a match. A small flame erupted from the finger, and she lit the pipe before shaking it out.

"Not good for your lungs." Crowley said quietly. Stupid as it was, he didn't want the conversation to end. He'd clearly taken for granted the simple joys of just saying things to somebody without them breaking your nose for it.

All he received was a confused look in return, before she started to leave the room. She had only just stepped back into the hall when she turned back around to look at him. It was hard to read her face, but she seemed to be in deep thought about something. 

"Ah, to Heaven with it." She said with a smile, and stepped back inside only to kick Crowley hard in the ribs.

~*~

Aziraphale hadn't left Crowley's flat since that night. Instead, rather irresponsibly, he'd been intermittently drinking from one of Crowley's wine bottles and wandering around the place. He figured the demon wouldn't be too upset about the whole wine thing, if he was still alive even. Aziraphale had settled in the plant room sometime around four in the morning and hadn't left since then. He knew, somewhere in a dim corner of himself, that he should sober himself up and process this like a mature adult person, but he was too tired. Far too tired. 

If he ever slept, he would think this was a nightmare. Unfortunately, he knew it was real. Aziraphale didn't want to think about it properly, not just yet. First, his bookshop gone. His home for hundreds of years, and the place where he kept his most treasured belongings. There hadn't even been a chance for him to try and save anything from the fire, but perhaps it was best if he hadn't seen it go up in flame. Or maybe it _would've_ been best if he'd been there. All it would take was a snap of his fingers and the flames would extinguish themselves and all would be restored to its usual place. He hadn't had the chance to save it, to preserve all the memories lingering for just a while longer. And then, right after, he learns his only true friend on this Earth had been taken from him in the same manner. When he gave over the thermos, Aziraphale had sworn to himself that he'd protect Crowley. If anything had happened that put him in any danger, he was meant to be there for him. And he hadn't even the chance. 

Of course, he _had _had he chance, right when he made that promise. He could've popped up to Heaven and taken a bit of holy water and trusted Crowley. Hell, he could've just blessed it himself if he didn't want to risk Heaven figuring it out. But he worried too much, and he didn't trust the one person he truly ought to by now, and look where that got him. It gave Aziraphale his worst fear come true on a silver platter: Crowley, taken by Hell and in a fair amount of trouble with the authority Down There. And of course it was all his fault, he had been the one to directly put Crowley in danger because he just hadn't trusted him, which was ridiculous. One would think that after a person has been the one constant in your life, saving you multiple times, and who you loved over anything would be trustworthy, even if you've been told he's supposed to be your mortal enemy. Surely, experience would prove greater than theory, but that wasn't the case for Aziraphale, oh no. He silently cursed himself for being so damned _stupid_ and a _horrible _friend and an even worse angel. Of course, there was always the thought that he could go on some daring rescue mission for Crowley. Storm the gates to Hell and all that, but given his track record, there was a likely chance he would just bungle it all up and get himself in trouble, and then who would be there for Crowley? And that's not even considering the fact that Hell might've just killed him. He tried not to consider it, but every so often the thought would appear that Crowley might very well be gone for the rest of eternity. Aziraphale might've very well been the cause of his best friend's death.

Was the world still worth saving if the only person he wanted to experience it with was gone? Aziraphale couldn't be sure. He's glad the world was still around, if not for all the humans living there, but he didn't feel any joy at his next eternity like he should. What was the purpose of treating himself to a nice lunch if he couldn't invite Crowley to come with? What happiness could an old bookshop bring him if he didn't have his dearest companion to drink with after hours in the back? There simply was none. 

Aziraphale was considering moving to the kitchen at around noon when a blinding streak of light appeared in front of him. He pressed himself against the wall as it faded, just as quickly as it had appeared. The archangel Gabriel was standing right in front of him, casting wary looks around the room. When his gaze finally landed on Aziraphale, wide-eyed and huddled into the corner, he sighed and shook his head.

"Really?" Gabriel waved a hand and Aziraphale felt the alcohol leave his system. "Inebriating yourself in the den of a demon? I knew you were an issue, but I thought you'd have more self-respect."

"Ah...terribly sorry about that, Gabriel. Uh...just, um...rough few days, you can imagine, what with the apocalypse, and uh-"

Gabriel held up a hand, effectively hushing the other angel. "The apocalypse is precisely why I am here. And the den of a demon is related, but mostly the apocalypse."

Aziraphale clasped his hands behind his back, tugging at his coat. "Yes, rather, uh...I suppose that's trouble for me, then?" His words came out steadier than he anticipated and he found himself not caring what type of punishment they'd give him. 

"Yes and no." Gabriel answered. "We are all unbelievably pissed at you for your little stunt at the airbase, plus your attempts to avert Armageddon by influencing the boy we thought was the Antichrist and by killing the actual Antichrist. We're also angry at you for consorting with a demon. But, we've got an offer for you."

"Oh, do you." Aziraphale said, not caring enough to pretend like he cared. "What would that be?"

Gabriel smiled, which usually meant he was going to say something Aziraphale most certainly would _not _like.

"You'll like this." He said, rubbing his hands together. "I've discussed it with the other archangels, and we believe there is a possibility that the Serpent of Eden might have been using some demonic influence on you. If you renounce any affiliation with the demon Crowley, we'll assume you were being under his influence and let you off with a lesser punishment than we were considering for you, and believe me, that's something none of us would want to happen."

"What was the original idea?"

"Execution by hellfire." Gabriel said it as if he were reading off his grocery list. "But if you complete your task to renounce your loyalty to the demon Crowley, we'll send you a strongly-worded note, or take you off Earth for a few centuries. So, what'll it be? Utter obliteration or maybe a maintenance position for a millennia or two?"

There was something in the offer that didn't sit well with Aziraphale. Of course, there was always a chance they'd let him get away with just saying "yep, I'll never spend time with Crowley again, thanks for the offer, really kind of you". But knowing Gabriel, it was best to ask.

"You mentioned a task? What...what would that be?"

Gabriel shrugged, a small smile remaining on his lips.

"Kill him, of course."

Aziraphale inhaled sharply, his nails digging painfully into his palms. He couldn't. He knew he couldn't. He would most definitely rather walk through a whole building burning with hellfire than kill Crowley, that much was certain. 

Gabriel either hadn't noticed Aziraphale's reaction, or simply didn't care. "Hell doesn't want him, he's always been a problem. And now, with this whole stopping Armageddon thing, and, from what I hear, he tried to kill a fellow demon, they want rid of him. And what better way than to redeem yourself in the eyes of God than this? I emailed Lord Beelzebub about the idea, and they say if you take up our very generous offer, they'll tell the demons to leave you alone while you kill him. It'd be in and out, really, there's not a reason you could pass it up. Just pop in his cell, stab him with that flaming sword of yours, and pop back up to Heaven! Easy, right?"

Aziraphale distantly heard the archangel continue about how kind and forgiving they all were, but puzzle pieces were starting to click in his mind. He looked back up at Gabriel and put on a smile.

"I'll do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WANTED to put some wing-stomping in the last chapter but I FORGOT IT so here's some referenced wing-stomps to make me feel better about it
> 
> Also if y'all like the janitor she's an oc of mine and like not to self-promote but I've got a fic on her and another oc in the works so check that out if you'd like.


	5. escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale successfully rescues Crowley from Hell. Unfortunately, their time together is limited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways, now that I'm back from making dumb shit, let's update the serious fic

The janitor had been back in his makeshift cell twice more, and she was getting rather sick of him. Crowley hadn't tried to talk with her those last two times, but she complained enough for the two of them. Stuff about his feathers getting all over the place and her back hurting from having to bend to pick them up and about how he ought to just run out of blood already so she can stop mopping it up. Truth be told, Crowley was sick of her too. It was kind of hard to not be. What with all the new injuries, he was just generally in a bad mood. 

Crowley had counted out a full hour and no one had come in yet, which was suspicious. Did everyone just forget about him all of a sudden? Unlikely. Something was happening. Had they finally decided to do him in? Maybe the wait was them going to find an angel to bless a water gun real quick while they had free time. Come to think of it, that was a pretty likely option. They wanted him gone. So, Beelzebub lets everyone have their fun with beating him up, and then they just...kill him? Would they? It really would just be like them, to pay him back for trying to kill Ligur with holy water. A way of saying 'see, this is what you wanted to happen to a fellow demon, contemplate that for the last three seconds of your life'. Hell was all about irony. They pulled that funny little stint back in the old days with that cannibal guy and something with a fruit tree. Crowley never bothered to get the details. 

He really would prefer to not die, if it were up to him. That'd be a bummer. Right after the world didn't end and everything. There were quite a lot of things he'd like to do and a certain few things he'd like to say, while Earth was still going on. If he could somehow just teleport himself out, he would have by now, but something was holding Crowley there. Sigils, probably, on the walls or on his chains. He couldn't see, even after his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Either way, he wasn't getting anywhere. He sighed and silently accepted that whatever would happen to him, he wouldn't enjoy it. 

About another hour was counted (Crowley lost track at 45 minutes and guessed) when the door creaked open again. Crowley tensed up and squinted as the sliver of light from outside blinded him. He pushed his wings as far back as they could go and gripped the chain so hard it dug into his skin. The door clicked shut, and Crowley closed his eyes for a plunge into sudden darkness which never came. He could see a faint, flickering light from behind his eyelids. Weird. Nobody brought lights in here. Slowly, one eye opened, then the other, which revealed the light was coming from a flame of some sort, which illuminated the other person in the room, and-

Dearest unholy Lucifer, this was just going to be trouble.

"Aziraphale?!" Crowley hissed out, hating himself for how hoarse his voice sounded. The dim light lit up the angel's face, and Crowley felt his heart break a little. Aziraphale looked beaten down, tired to the core of his being, but there was still a certain determination in his face. His suit was wrinkled and Crowley had never seen it looking anything but neatly pressed since the angel got it.

"Oh, dear, what have they done to you?" The flaming sword fell from the angel's hands with a clang and Aziraphale was kneeling in front of him. He reached out for him, and Crowley flinched away on instinct. Aziraphale froze and the hurt expression on his face was enough to make Crowley feel awful. It's not like Aziraphale was going to hurt him...unless it wasn't him.

Crowley cleared his throat to get the metaphorical cobwebs out of there before speaking. "It's really you here, angel?"

Aziraphale nodded. "It is really me." He cupped the demon's face in his hands and ran his thumbs across his cheeks and eyes and nose, healing any breaks or bruises he touched.

"Tell me three things only Aziraphale would know."

The angel paused for just a moment before moving his hands to Crowley's arms, mending the broken bones. "Now let's see, let's see...I made you watch _The Notebook_ with me when it came out and you said you hated it but you cried at the end, the only food you've ever voluntarily eaten is devil's food cake because you find it hilarious, and your eleventh birthday present to Warlock was a taxidermy raccoon which he adored and named Brandon." He touched the shackles on Crowley's wrists and they broke free and fell back against the wall. 

Crowley brought his arms down and stretched them out. "Alright, it's you. Had to make sure, it's Hell." He gave Aziraphale a curious look as the angel started working on his wings. "Say, what's brought you down here?"

"In general terms, you." Aziraphale answered. "Not lots of time for the long version, I'm afraid." He gently worked the stakes out of his wings and Crowley did his part and didn't cry out from the pain.

"Just give me the Sparknotes version." He gasped as the angel wiggled the stake out of his right wing. "I've got all day."

"I don't even know what a Sparknote is, and we really don't have all day, that's the thing." Another touch unclasped the collar around Crowley's neck and the angel went to work on his ribs.

"No, I want to know what's going on." Crowley stood up and shook out the numbness in his legs. "Just tell me something, alright?"

Aziraphale sighed and put his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. "Heaven sent me here to kill you, but I'm clearly not going to do that, so whenever you'd like, feel free to just...pop on out, go somewhere, anywhere they can't find you. I'll go to you." 

"If you didn't want to kill me, what was that little stunt back in the 60s for?" Alright, Crowley would admit that it was bitter and probably uncalled for, but he'd gotten over the initial surprise of his angel showing up like a knight in shining armor (that was _his _job!) and just remembered he was upset with Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale sighed and he looked more tired than he did when he came in. Crowley almost felt bad. 

"Look, I thought you wouldn't need it, alright? Just go, will you?"

"Clearly I did need it. You could've just said it was dangerous to get-"

"Crowley, we don't have time for this"

"-and I would've understood, I was already planning to get some-"

"Crowley, please-"

"-but you _lied _to me about it, you _knew _it was important-"

"Dear, listen to me-"

"-and you didn't see fit to even tell me about it later, you lied right to my face, and who knows how much else you've lied to me about since you're so _good_ at it now, huh, some angel you've been-"

"I thought I could protect you, alright?!" Aziraphale whispered loudly, fists balled at his sides. "I thought I'd be able to, but I _couldn't_, I'd been _discorporated _of all things and I couldn't find you and the world was ending and...listen, I've been here longer than I should've been. I promise I'll tell you everything, you've just got to _go_. Please."

Crowley took a moment to remember that his body was used to breathing and he should get on it. "I've tried, but..." He shrugged.

Aziraphale gestured limply at the fallen chains. "Containing sigils on the shackles. I'll cover up everything, don't worry."

Crowley nodded and rubbed at his wrists. "Right." He said. "Thanks. See you in a few." 

He smiled and snapped his fingers, transporting himself to the only home he knew.

~*~

Aziraphale stared at the empty space where Crowley had been for a moment longer before shaking himself out of it.

"Right, he muttered. "Let's get to work, shall we?"

He'd never used his flaming sword before he gave it away. Technically, this one wasn't even his. It was a rental. So he didn't know what effect it would have if you'd hypothetically stabbed someone with it. Would a demon react differently than a human? The decoy didn't even have to be very convincing, Lord knows Gabriel isn't the brightest bulb in the angelic chandelier. But Beelzebub....he'd never met them, but from the stories Crowley told, they were ruthless and cunning. One doesn't become Prince of Hell for nothing. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to think. If he hadn't been an idiot forty years ago, he wouldn't be in this mess. 

None of that. He straightened himself out and clapped his hands. A charred skeleton appeared, chained up as Crowley had been. The skeleton would probably vanish in a week or so, but a week should be long enough. In a week, Crowley could be halfway to his Alpha Centauri and would be perfectly safe. 

"Now there's that done." He smiled, the first honest one since the world hadn't ended and picked the sword back up. Usually the halls of Hell are packed like a can of sardines, only smelling much worse. Today, this particular hallway had been cleared for his arrival. Beelzebub promised no demon would bother him, and no demon did. Only the one he'd been looking for, but he'd had time to get used to Crowley's bothering. It was almost eerie, hearing his footsteps echo against the chipped stone walls and watching his shadow be distorted by the hanging light-bulbs swinging in the hot breeze that never seemed to let up. It was no wonder Crowley always griped when he had some meeting or other down here. It must be worse jam packed. 

Gabriel was waiting for him when he came up the escalator. He smiled broadly and strode towards Aziraphale.

"Well? How did it go?" He asked eagerly. "He put up a good fight?" Gabriel got in a mock battle stance before laughing and clapping Aziraphale on the shoulder.

"Oh yes, still wily as ever." Aziraphale chuckled nervously. He was never a good liar. "Had him all tied up, so eh, not much fighting, but, um, he did scream quite a bit."

"Well, maybe next time you'll get a good tussle." Gabriel chuckled. "I'm glad you've come to your senses, I really am! Now, I've consulted with the other archangels, and we've agreed that a sort of...janitorial position up in Heaven for a couple centuries would suit you. How about it?"

Aziraphale felt his heart sink at the prospect of being confined to the empty whiteness of Heaven for hundreds of years. It wasn't that long, certainly not for someone who's been around for thousands of years, but those years were filled with experiences. Good food, feeding the ducks, opening his bookshop, seeing some of humanity's greatest triumphs....and of course, the demon that made the years worthwhile. Being immortal alone would get so terribly lonely and depressing, and he found that he'd not appreciated the company Crowley gave him enough. 

But a few hundred years by himself in Heaven would be alright with the knowledge that his love was safe. "That's very well, thank you for the chance to prove myself." 

Gabriel nodded and held out his hand for the flaming sword. Aziraphale handed it to him, and Gabriel stuck it in the hilt on his belt. "Mercy is what we do. Raphael was all for something harsher, but we wanted to give you a second chance. Demonic influences are no laughing matter."

Aziraphale nodded, as if he knew just what "demonic influences" were even like. The only type of influence Crowley had been on him was good, although the demon would resent that notion.

"Now, we'll give you a little time to clear up things down on Earth, gather up a few things, and you can begin your new job!" Gabriel looked far too cheerful for this, although it was understandable. He thought he was helping some poor naive little angel redeem himself in the eyes of God. 

"How much time will I be given?" Aziraphale asked. There was so much he needed to tell Crowley, so much he needed to get out of the way before he left. 

Gabriel looked at his watch and tapped at the face. "London time is about....six-thirty at night. How about we give you to...." He thought, drawing out the "oo" sounds. "How's eight in the morning work?" 

One night. They had one last night together and then that was it for far too long. But a night was better than nothing, wasn't it? He'd prefer a week, or at the very least a day, but Upstairs didn't know. They assumed he'd close up shop and do some dusting maybe. Maybe they thought he could sell the property in one night and that was all he needed to do. Aziraphale doubted there wouldn't be many buyers now. But he nodded dutifully and marched out the door. Wherever Crowley was, he'd find him. And tonight, he intended to tell him nothing but the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Describing Aziraphale as a disappointed mom was the best thing I've ever written hands down


	6. bare yourself for the world to see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley have a much needed heart-to-heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be sum sappy shit

Crowley had been scrolling aimlessly through Twitter on his phone and taking up the entire couch for about a half hour and was starting to get bored when Aziraphale appeared. 

"C'mere a second, I'm gonna show you Sparknotes." He said, switching apps to search the site up. "Not one of mine, sadly, but you'll hate it, kids use it for English classes instead of just reading the material. See, if I'd thought that up, then I'd-"

"Did you fix it?" 

Crowley looked up to see the angel clearly hadn't heard a word he'd said. He looked dazed and was currently peeking out the doorway to look out on the main room of the bookshop. 

"Fix what? Everything's fine as far as I can tell, I just popped in here." Crowley shrugged and put his phone away. "You alright?" 

Aziraphale didn't seem to hear him and came back into the back room. He wandered around the room a few times, running his hands over everything before he spoke. "I...the other day, I came here to...to look for you. It was burned down." 

Crowley's heart jumped and he sat straight up. "Burned down? Who did that?"

The angel gave only a halfhearted shrug before settling down into his armchair. "No idea. Might've just been an accident, I had some candles lit before the whole discorporation. They boy though, Adam, he must've....he must've fixed everything. It seems to be restored perfectly, I can't think of how else."

"Would this Adam be the Antichrist we were looking for, or someone else with magic." Crowley leaned back into a more comfortable position that involved his long limbs everywhere on the couch. "You've got to catch me up to speed with everything."

"Yes, I rather do." Aziraphale took one last wary look around the room, as if halfway convinced it'd evaporate away. "I'm not even sure where to start."

"How about after I saw you last?" Crowley stood up and stretched his arms over his head. The things you take for granted. "I have a feeling this story goes best with some wine."

"You read my mind, dear."

After Crowley had fished out a few bottles of Aziraphale's good wine and after they were already a couple glasses in, Aziraphale began his story.

"Well, after you drove off, I went into my shop and set everything up to contact God." He started. "So much evidence that no one in Heaven cared about Earth, and I still thought...never mind that. You know how it looks, with the circle and the candles, and Shadwell had shown up to collect payment or something. I suppose it looked like witchcraft to him and you know how the man is."

"He tried to exorcise you?" Crowley conjured up a pair of sunglasses and put them on.

"He did, and I backed up into the circle, which was still open. And well, I didn't mean to, so body went..." Aziraphale made a 'poof' gesture. "This must've been around the time Hell came for you, or else you know I'd have come. Please trust me when I say I absolutely would have come to help you." 

The angel's voice was heavy with emotion and all Crowley could do was nod and down the rest of his wine.

"Right. Well. Discorporation wasn't pleasant, got scolded by some general or other while I was in Heaven, and I just came on back. They wanted me to suit up and get ready for war, if you could believe it." He chuckled at that and a faint smile remained on his lips when he continued. "I went popping about looking for you, there was so much I had to tell you. About the Antichrist, things I should've told you earlier. But...well, I couldn't find you. And the world was ending in a few hours so I went looking for a body to inhabit for the time being. I figured you'd be there.

"The Antichrist is a lovely boy named Adam Young. He lives in Tadfield, and the apocalypse was meant to happen at the airbase there. Truth to be told, I didn't do a whole lot! Might not have even needed me. The bombs-they were planning on setting off nuclear bombs _everywhere _to kick it off, absolutely barbaric-that was all stopped by that girl you ran over and her new boyfriend. Oh! Speaking of, I'll need to check to see if her book is alright, hopefully! Very rare, there aren't any left anywhere, besides this one"

"Apocalypse?" 

"Yes, right. The Four Horsepeople were stopped by Adam and his little group of friends. And then Gabriel and Beelzebub showed up, and then Satan himself, but it was all fine and the world didn't end. Not many details are important, honestly. The Antichrist boy put me right back in my body, I was in this nice women, Madame Tracy, she knows Shadwell. Anyways, after all that, I sent the artifacts the Horsepeople left behind back with this pleasant mailman, and I went to looking for you. I was in a state of mind when you didn't show up, let me tell you. So, I came back here to see if you might've been here, and, well. I told you. Burnt to the ground."

"I'm sorry." Crowley said, and he meant it. 

Aziraphale stared down at his folded hands in his lap, whatever remained of his smile fading. "Not a problem." He said in such a way that indicated it was a problem. "It's back now, isn't it?

"Naturally, next place I went to was your flat. I'm sure you know what was there. Puddle of water, a note, and not you. Crowley, I'm so sorry I didn't trust you with holy water. I intentionally lied to you and used your trust in me against you, and it put you in danger. I should've known you'd be careful with it. Whatever I'm able to do to restore that trust, I'll do. It's no excuse, but I believe I could protect you from harm. Evidently, I couldn't." 

Crowley sighed and looked up at the ceiling. On one hand, he was still upset about it. It had put him in danger and that made it clear that Aziraphale was perfectly capable of lying to him. On the other hand, he was absolutely shit with apologies. "Eh. No permanent damage. Good times. Continue on."

Aziraphale sighed. "Well, I still feel absolutely dreadful. When I read the note, well. I didn't handle it exactly maturely, but it was a very stressful day. I stayed the night there, and in the morning, Gabriel came in to visit. Well, visit makes it sound pleasant. He gave me a sort of ultimatum. He knew everything, about you and my involvement with the world not ending..." He twisted his ring before speaking again. "What he said was, they planned on executing me with Hellfire, but...but if I killed you, then...then it'd be alright, mostly."

"You told me about the..." Crowley made a stabbing gesture. "But if they find out you tricked them, that's going to be lots of trouble for you. They might go through with the Hellfire, to be honest it would've been best if you'd just gone on with it."

"Never." Aziraphale stood up sharply and crossed the room to sit next to Crowley on the couch. "It wouldn't have been best, dear. Even if I'd been genuinely in Heaven's good books again, it wouldn't have been worth it. You are my best, and possibly only, friend here and I couldn't have lost you again." 

Crowley was glad he was wearing his glasses, or else Aziraphale might've seen the tears welling up. There were quite a few factors involved. For one, the thought the his angel was definitely at risk of getting killed. Heaven had eyes everywhere, and you couldn't hide from them for long. If they ever found out about the trick he pulled off, that was that. They'd just kill him, and then Hell might possibly kill Crowley. Or maybe they'd lock him up again. The last one might be the option he feared most, as another eternity without Aziraphale in it would be unbearable. The second factor was the new closeness. Whenever they sat back here, Aziraphale stayed in his chair and Crowley sprawled himself all over the couch. Now, though, it was something so small and yet he didn't think he could go without it. Crazy how these things happen. "Right, you sappy shit. If that's all, then we should probably find somewhere to hide. Alpha Centauri's still open."

"That's not all." Aziraphale stated. "It's...mostly alright. We're both alive, but...Gabriel spoke to me after I left Hell. I've been removed from my station here. I've got to work in Heaven for....a long time." He closed his eyes and sighed. "They've given me some time to wrap things up, then I've got to leave."

"How long do you have?"

"Until tomorrow morning."

Crowley felt his heart chill and he turned to face Aziraphale at last. The angel was sitting stiff as a board, gaze fixed downwards and his mouth set as straight as a ruler. He supposes any deadline would be too short, but one night was almost nothing. He had to be careful not to blink or it would be over. Of course, it was a possibility that after some time, Aziraphale would be sent back down to Earth, but that solved nothing. For one, would he be different? Would spending so much time up in Heaven with the other angels change him? The clean-cut edges of Heaven might chip away at his wonderful softness until nothing was left of the angel Crowley knew and loved. And what would he do in the years, decades, centuries he was away? Sleep through them all? He'd managed before, seeing Aziraphale only a few times every hundred years or so, but after the Arrangement and especially after he moved to London, he'd grown accustomed to the closeness. Being farther than an hour's drive away would be unbearable. And there were still so many things he wanted to do with Aziraphale, to tell Aziraphale...how was he supposed to fit them all into one night?

"Are you alright?" Aziraphale's voice cut through the fog and brought him back into the present. Crowley couldn't spend any more time on thinking. 

"Yeah, of course." He lied. "Just...that's not very long, is it."

"No." Aziraphale glanced up at Crowley, then back to the floor, then back up again. "No it isn't."

Crowley's breath caught on the angel's gaze and he put his wine glass on the side table before his shaking hands could drop it. "Aziraphale..." He breathed, heart hammering so hard it might just pop out of his chest and kill him. He almost hoped for that instead of letting his feelings for the angel be known. Only one night left. It had to be now, or who knows when he would next get a chance? "There's something....I've got to tell you." He held Aziraphale's gaze for a moment longer before fixating on the ceiling again. He let out a shaky breath, all too aware of the expectant eyes burning a hole through him. Sunglasses weren't protection enough and he brought his fists up to cover the lenses.

"Look, Aziraphale...I just...shit, this is...whooo." He couldn't do this. It was too much. He was going to get up and leave and not come back ever and that's that. "Aziraphale, I...I love you. React however you want, I don't care, I just wanted you to know because...because I dunno, you're leaving tomorrow for a very long time and I've loved you for forever I think, I can't remember, but yeah." He stopped himself then because he could feel himself about to cry and he couldn't do that. That would make this entire situation so much worse. 

"Oh, my dear." Aziraphale says it so _softly, _so _gently_ that Crowley just wants to scream. "I feel very much the same about you."

Crowley spat out some random syllables while he processed this new information, just to keep it not weird and silent. This couldn't be true. All of the "we're hereditary enemies" and "i don't even like you" and "you go too fast for me". The angel would trip over himself denying they even knew each other, and here he was just admitting he loved Crowley? He knew damn well this angel could lie, and well. 

"Promise me," he said shakily, not trusting himself to look at Aziraphale. "promise me you aren't lying, or...or it's not some all-encompassing divine love type thing, because if you're going to give me this type of false hope...fuck, 6,000 years, I couldn't take it." His voice broke at the end and he decided to shut up before he cried for real. 

Because Crowley wasn't looking, he couldn't prepare himself for Aziraphale pulling him into an embrace. He absolutely did _not _squeak when he felt the angel's arms around him because that would be stupid and he does not do that type of thing. Ever. In this position, having his hands covering his eyes was a little painful, so he let his arms hang loosely by his side and let the protection of the sunglasses be enough. 

"I'm not lying to you, I promise." Aziraphale sounded close to tears himself and Crowley felt his heart break a little bit. "I've wanted to tell you how I felt for a very long time, and when I read your note...some part of me thought Hell killed you and you'd never know how much I care for you. And I meant to tonight, you just beat me to it I suppose. My darling, you must know just how much I love you and if it takes the next 6,000 years to show you, I won't mind one bit." 

Crowley stared into the wall on the opposite side of the room. Too much of his energy was being put into not crying that when Aziraphale said "come here, love" and shifted him so Crowley had to see him, he couldn't have resisted if he wanted to. Aziraphale was lying down across the couch and Crowley had been practically pulled on top of him. The angel reached up and plucked Crowley's sunglasses off, and exposed him for anyone to come in and see. 

"There we go. I always did rather like your eyes." Aziraphale smiled and cupped Crowley's cheek in one hand. 

"Snake eyes." Crowley muttered, not having much brain power at this point to say much else. 

"I know. They're lovely." The angel reached behind himself and placed the sunglasses on a table. "Of course, I like them much better when there aren't so many tears, but they're lovely all the same."

Crowley sniffed and wiggled an arm up to wipe away any tears that might've dared to escape. He took a good look at Aziraphale for the first time. He was smiling, but his blue eyes were drowning in some sort of melancholy emotion, Crowley could barely stand it.

"This, um...may be rather presumptuous, but...could I kiss you?"

"If you don't kiss me right now, angel, I'm going to die."

Aziraphale closed the small distance between them and pressed his lips to Crowley's. It wasn't exactly like first kisses like in all of the movies. No fireworks or any fire-related objects went off, there wasn't a huge swell of romantic violin music, and Crowley hit his forehead on Aziraphale's. But a warm, fuzzy feeling made its way through Crowley, staring in his chest. He moved his hands to grab Aziraphale's face and brought them even closer. Crowley kissed Aziraphale like he was starving, had been starving since the angel gave his sword away to humanity. 

Eventually, they pulled apart only far enough so Crowley could rest his head on Aziraphale's chest, and Aziraphale could run his fingers through his hair. Crowley had no idea how he was going to survive with his angel gone. 

"Last night on Earth." He said, trying for a cheerful tone and failing miserably. "You wanna do anything special?" 

Aziraphale hummed and shook his head. "No, not really. I'd like to spend it with you." 

"That can be arranged."

They laughed a little at that, and it fell silent quickly after. Noises came from the occasional car or pedestrian outside the shop, the ticking of Aziraphale's old grandfather clock, and either of them shifting positions to be more comfortable. Some time later, Aziraphale got up for a moment to make some tea for the two of them, and Crowley missed him immensely through the five minutes that took. When their tea was done, they couldn't just lie on each other like before, so Aziraphale leaned his head on Crowley's shoulder and that was also good. There really wasn't much that needed to be said, and after a few thousand years, you learn to enjoy company without having to say a word.

"I'll miss you, you know." Crowley said at about half past eleven. He'd been watching the clock diligently, counting down the seconds.

"I'll miss you too." 

Crowley was silent a moment. "Don't let it change you." He said weakly, not bothering to hide it anymore.

"Oh, my dear," Aziraphale said in that same infuriatingly soft tone, except this time it made Crowley want to melt. "If they've not gotten to me yet, they never will."

That was about all the reassurance Crowley needed right then, and they lapsed back into a comfortable silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always think I write a lot but it always turns out to be really short chapters why is this


	7. the absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has to leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hot sec

Aziraphale isn't sure of when he fell asleep, only that he evidently did as he blinks himself awake. There was a weight on his shoulder, which, when he looks, turns out to be Crowley, sleeping curled up against him. He smiles and threads his fingers through Crowley's hair, and he thinks for a moment about what they might do today, and the day after that, and the day after that. But, with no real harshness, he remembered his reality and broke apart his warm, sleepy contentment. With an effort, Aziraphale looked at his grandfather clock, as if somehow he could stop time by ignoring it. 7:30am. He sighed and looked back down at Crowley. He hated to wake him, but he would have to be leaving soon and he'd hate to go without warning. But still, he had half an hour. He would let Crowley rest a little longer, he definitely needed it. 

He let fifteen minutes pass before he started to become anxious over the remaining time. "Crowley, darling." Aziraphale whispered, gently nudging him awake. "Let's get up now." 

Crowley shook himself awake and looked as if he was going to lecture Aziraphale on waking him up at these hours, but the mild irritation fell away at the first sight of the angel's worried face. "What time is it?" Was all he asked, sleep still hoarse in his throat. 

"Almost time for me to have to go." Aziraphale says softly, still petting Crowley's hair. The demon offers no objection and simply curls himself in closer. "I wanted to let you rest."

Crowley grunted and stood up, stretching his lanky limbs out and popping his back. "Well." He said, digging about for words. "You want breakfast?"

"No, thank you." Aziraphale said, smoothing out the creases in his jacket. He wasn't feeling particularly in the mood for having a meal, although he supposes he should eat something before going Up. There was sure to not be a single crumb of anything in Heaven and he was surely going to regret it if he didn't get something in him, but he just wasn't in the right mood for it. "Maybe a bit of tea, perhaps?" 

Crowley nodded silently and went to fill up the old, battered kettle with water and tea bags. It was silent again, for a moment, but the comfort of it left during the night. Now, they were left with the deafening _tick tick tick _of the clock and Crowley's footsteps as he puts the kettle on the stove. Aziraphale sits up a little straighter and wishes, not for the first time these days, that he'd only just trusted Crowley. The soft bubbling of the water from where Crowley is now standing just reminds him that the both of them could've been spared a world of hurt if only. No one would have needed to get hurt or taken away from the other and it would be...fine, probably. But Aziraphale has made his bed and he'll have to lie in it if he likes it or not. 

The whistle of the kettle startled the pair out of their silences and Crowley chuckled quietly as he poured a couple cups. He didn't have to ask how many sugars Aziraphale wanted (none) and he never did. Aziraphale's heart glowed at the realization, and at being able to appreciate just how well they knew each other. 

"Come here, love." Aziraphale stretched out his arm to Crowley, and he did as he was told. He placed the cups of tea on the table and stared at the clock. 

"Not too long now." He sighed, curling back up into Aziraphale. It wasn't unwelcome whatsoever. In fact, Aziraphale was mentally storing away these memories of affections and love for when the cold and empty halls of Heaven were too much. He knew they would be, as they always were. All he could do was try his best to never get used to it.

Aziraphale watched his tea get cold as both cups were left untouched. He felt, for an instant, like he should take Crowley up on his offer to run away to the stars. It could just be them, together, no one to bother them. But then again, if they ever got tired of it, they wouldn't have the option to go back to Earth. Heaven is eternal and Heaven never forgets. And if he wasn't up there in...six minutes now, they'd surely get suspicious and go looking. No, while living in the stars with Crowley seemed awfully romantic, it just wasn't practical. 

Six minutes can pass awfully quickly when all you want them to do is stay right where they are, and so, far too soon for anyone's liking, the clock chimed for eight o'clock and the communications circle in the main room of Aziraphale's bookstore started humming with life. The light was visible from beneath the rug it was sat under, and all around the world people found themselves with a mild dislike of eight o'clock in the morning, or the equivalent in their time zone, especially today's eight o'clock in the morning. They would find things to attribute it to, such as a child crying in their subway car, or a red just as they got up to the traffic light. Nobody would pin it on an angel and a demon feeling such a large sadness that it involuntarily spilled out, just a little bit. 

"I suppose that's me." Aziraphale said, making no real move to get up. Crowley pushed himself off the couch and held out a hand to Aziraphale.

"Well, I guess I'd better walk you to the door." He said with a smile that was barely hanging in there. He was trying to make it easy and Aziraphale loved him for it. He took Crowley's hand and let himself be escorted into the main room, almost laughing in spite of himself.

"What a gentleman." Aziraphale teased, and ignored the lack of opposition from Crowley. "I'll try to contact you while I'm away. If I don't, it's just because I've not found a way to."

Crowley laughed shortly and cut it off. "You sound like I'll worry." He said. "It's not like it's the first time we've not seen each other for a while, I'm sure I'll manage."

"Yes, that's true." Aziraphale hesitated in front of his circular rug, glowing with the holy power underneath. He cast a worried look at Crowely, who was standing as still as a statue. Such a large amount of concentrated divine force was sure to injure him, or at least cause him some degree of pain. "You ought to stand back, love."

Crowley waved a hand dismissively and shoved his hands into his too-small pockets. "Oh please, it won't hurt me a bit. Besides, can't send you off properly from back there, can I?" 

Aziraphale huffed and crossed his arms at him, but upon seeing that no amount of stern looks would be changing his demon's mind, he pulled the rug off the circle. Careful as to not touch the circle itself, he dragged it off to the side of the room and stood at the edge of it, taking everything in. It wasn't the last time he'd see all this, he reminded himself. He would be back one day, however long it would take. But the problem was it was the last time he would see it all exactly as it was. Things change, which he'd been so cautiously avoiding for hundreds upon hundreds of years, and now it would happen without his permission. 

"You'll come back, won't you?" Crowley asked, voice quiet and trembling. Aziraphale could pick up the meaning behind it, more than just concern about his return. Crowley wanted him without change too, without any heavenly residue left clinging to him. And Aziraphale didn't want any more divinity coming back home with him than he already had naturally.

"Of course, my love." Aziraphale whispered and stepped forward with open arms. Crowley took the invitation and embraced him as if he could stop time with it. Aziraphale hugged back, carefully so as not to hurt his bony snake. He pointedly ignored any wet stains that might be appearing on his shoulder and instead focused on trying to memorize everything about this moment. The feeling of Crowley's arms around him, his body pressed up against him, the little shifts of his bones as his moves ever so slightly, the way he smelled, the texture of his wrinkled shirt, the feel of his hair against his cheek. Once he was certain the moment was etched into the folds of his brain, he pulled away and stepped back towards the circle. No use in putting it off any longer. 

"I love you." Aziraphale said, because what else was there left to say? He stretched out one of his arms, and Crowley stretched out one of his so that their fingertips were just touching, and it felt somehow more intimate than their last night had.

"I love you too." Crowley responded, and he dropped his arm. _You do what you have to_, he was saying. _I will be here when you return, I'll always wait._

Aziraphale smiled at him and dropped his arm too. _I will come back to you, no matter the distance. No matter the time apart._ He took a breath and took a step back, closing his eyes against the light as he felt himself being taken from his home.

~*~

_My dearest Crowley,_

_As it turns out, there is no way for me to communicate effectively with you during my time here. I asked around a bit, and while the questions certainly raised suspicions, I got the answers I was looking for. Essentially, there are ways to contact Earth from Heaven, but none that aren't moderated or tracked. Even a letter would be read and tracked to its destination! It is an absolute nightmare up here, I tell you. Nevertheless, I won't risk your safety for my selfish desires, so you won't hear from me until I have returned. I am writing letters for you, to give you when I do get back to Earth. Gabriel said it should only take me a century or so, which will be quite a lot of letters by the time I'm finished! I hope you gain at least a passing like of reading by then._

_Speaking of, can you guess what they've had me do up here? I at least expected some sort of secretarial job, but they've got me as a window-washer! Not to mention that none of the windows ever get so much as a dust mote on them. Personally, I believe they just like to watch me squirm, but I accepted the task without complaint. I do fully intend to get out of here as quickly as I am able. You're sure to guess that my acrophobia is not of much help at these heights, and with the void below me, it only does get worse. It's not so bad, I won't have you worrying for me. They even gave me a lift, for I assume they know how wings can get tired. I'd not be of much help if they gave out on me and I just fell down into nothingness, and I don't think Gabriel wants to be responsible for it. It isn't bad at all, my dear, I get my privacy and my time to myself. They even got me a little office, certainly nothing impressive, but it's somewhere I can be until they call me to work again. It has a little bookshelf with actual books on it, which I did not expect! And a little cactus, which reminds me of you. If possible, I will acquire more little plants until I've a garden to rival yours. I'll prove to you that kind words will do more good than constant fear-mongering. _

_Don't worry about the letters being dull, I will be sure to put all sorts of interesting information into them so you can make it through them all without falling asleep or discorporating of boredom. They'll be having me back out soon, so I think I will wrap it up now. _

_I miss you already_

_Aziraphale_

~*~

**Angel,**

**I am personally blaming you for turning me into a bloody softie. It's not even been a full week down here and I'm already missing you. Just the other day, I drove to your shop to see if you'd like to go to lunch and I was halfway there when I remembered you wouldn't be there. Sucks to be you, because I went out to lunch myself and hardly ate anything. You would have been very cross with me, I didn't even take it to go with me. Either that or you'd have eaten it yourself. Now that I'm thinking of it, I'm going to plan lunch dates for when you get back so you can get used to people food again. Bet they've not got anything good up in Heaven, huh?**

**Not sure what I'll even put in these letters to you. It isn't like I can very well send it to you or anything, so I'll just save it until you're back. You'll get a big kick out of it, getting to read about me being soppy in around 500 letters. I'll hate it, I bet. And if I know you, you're probably getting the same idea so you can make me all emotional when you come back. I'll be crying anyways, so no need to torture me any farther. **

**I guess I'll just keep you updated on things going on down here. I'll try to get into contact with that Antichrist kid and the book girl I ran over, so I can tell them you're out of commission. Maybe even meet them myself, they sound decent. I'll bet book girl will be thrilled to meet the guy who ran her over. Also, I might temporarily relocate to the bookshop, so no one sells it or anything crazy while you're away. You'd not be happy if you came back and all your precious books were gone, yeah? Or I could curse it so anyone who enters has...something happen to them, the details are a work in progress.**

**I miss you already**

**Crowley**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters are gonna be fun for me


	8. letters (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The letters will go on for as long as I'm not bored of them which might be a while, so brace yourselves.

_My dearest Crowley,_

_I fully rescind any compliments I paid to my small office. I have read only two of the books they've let me have and so far they are the Bible and the script for The Sound Of Music. I have only managed to read them because I'd be bored out of my mind if I hadn't. I dread discovering what the other books are, as no one up here has a sensible taste in literature. I know you aren't a fan of reading but at least we can discuss things such as symbolism and have a friendly debate over what few books we have mutually read. We both do have a love of Gothic literature, I am just now realizing. I expect you like it for the dark and dreariness of it. Or, more likely, you simply enjoy the genre. Remember we argued for about a month over whether the creature from Frankenstein was to be blamed for his actions when the novel was first published? I never thought much of it at the time, but I do suppose you remind me of him a little, but without the murdering. That's why you argued Victor was to blame, wasn't it? If I read it again now, I might think the same. We did both agree that the movie left much to be desired in any actual content from the original source. _

_I am getting off topic. I was complaining! The whole office is far too white for my liking. White walls, white ceiling, white desk, white bookshelf, white book covers for that matter, the cactus pot is white...I forgot how much Heaven is in need of a splash of color! If there were more plants and a ridiculously ornate throne somewhere, I'd say it reminded me of your place, but there aren't those things and I'd have to say your flat is nicer. If only because you live there. And I will not even get started on this silly uniform they insist on making me wear, because if I did that would be all this letter would be composed of. Needless to say, it is also white and entirely not stylish at all. Yes, you would say nothing I wear is stylish, but this is even worse. _

_There is some good news! I've got a new plant! Yes, it's white. My word, if I could remodel this whole plane of existence, I would! It's a white orchid, very small, and I do like it. I've put it next to the cactus. Maybe I'll bring them with me when I get back. I do believe I'll grow rather attached to them, as I often do. Silly old me._

_I haven't even been here long and I'm already missing food. You know I've gone without eating for long stretches of time before, but you also know I've never enjoyed it. They only have bread up here! They say it's for adjustment, for angels who have been stationed on Earth for a while and had their corporations get accustomed to eating every day for regular meals. Of course, it's usually reserved for the guardian angels who've been assigned to someone for their whole life. That is not a job I'd envy! But I've been taking some, just so I can have something to nibble on throughout the day. What I wouldn't give for a decent meal! They can call me soft all they want, but they can't stop me from eating my way through London once I'm back! _

_I do suppose I might try to find an angel who's halfway decent to talk to while I'm here. I'm afraid I might get rather lonely otherwise. I've gotten used to you being around and now I'm stuck in the only place you've been locked out of. Most angels are alright, it's just the ones in charge have let it get to their heads a bit. In some certain cases, it's gotten more to their heads than the others. I won't name names, but we both know. Oh, he's been absolutely ridiculous the entire time, I cannot stand him. He comes up to me when I'm taking a break and either talks about appropriate repentance or about how wonderful they are for not murdering me. I could say all number of things if I didn't want to leave on good terms so they could let me be. Sometimes he watches me through the windows while I'm going about my job and I cannot describe how uncomfortable it is! I don't believe he knows how to blink so he just stares while I'm minding my own business. Next time, I will just stare back at him and see how he'd like it. _

_I've got a little longer before they call for me to wipe their crystal-clear windows again, so I will wrap this up and see if there is any decent literature in this place. I have to say, I am very grateful I was useless enough for them to give me an "easy position" on Earth. If I could do it again, I would be more useless so I would get there faster. _

_I miss you_

_Aziraphale_

_~*~_

**Angel,**

**I got sushi for dinner today and I really don't know what you see in it. Raw fish, grains, seaweed. I mean, who even came up with this?? I bet you'd actually know the answer to that one. In fact, I bet you actually knew the guy. I might look that one up because now I'm curious. You see what you're doing to me?? I'm learning things! What is happening.**

**Anyways, I have relocated to the bookshop so as to keep anyone from buying it while you're gone. I've told the customers you're out on a business trip and that I'm running it for you for the foreseeable future. As you can tell, my limited knowledge of old books and on how the Heaven you organize this shop has driven away many a customer. Someone asked me where the cookbooks were and I told him I didn't even think we had any. So, if you should ever decide to hand the business down to anyone, I'm your man. Or I'm your whatever I am. Snake. I'm your snake. ** **Speaking of snake, sometimes I'll be a snake when a customer comes in and scare them off. It's a lot of fun. Also some guy tried to flirt with me and I pretended to fall asleep on him. I can't see why you complain about customers when it's so much fun to fuck with them! **

**Speaking of fucking with people, I would like to brag about tennis. One of my greatest accomplishments was screwing with the scoring system. Go up by 15 until you hit 30, then up by 10 until 40 and then at 41 you win. If you tie, you're in a perpetual loop of being double tied until one of you scores twice in a row. I don't even like tennis and I'm still proud of it. Of course, no one down there thought it was a success at all but I do think I deserve some credit for that one. **

**Enough about tennis (forever, probably). I saw you had an old copy of ** Frankenstein  **lying around the store. I'm reading it again now and I forgot how much of a shit Victor was. Remember we had that argument over it? I remember it because you said the creature was in the wrong, because even though he'd been hurt and abandoned for all his life, that doesn't excuse murder. And I think I'm agreeing with you a little. I mean, yeah, murder is bad. Just because your dad's been a shit doesn't mean that's ok. I mean, I've never committed a single murder (the Nazis don't count). We agreed that the creature had always had the ability to be kind, though, so I guess that counts for something. This time around, I think I'll keep track of every time Victor is a shit. Might see if you have any other books from that time period floating about. That was a good time for books, real spooky. You know what I might give another read if you've got it? Dracula. I always thought that was fun. And I'll wager you've got some Edgar Allen Poe somewhere in this mess. He was a weird guy. I liked him. **

**I talked with that book girl the other day, told her I was a friend of yours. She told me her name but it's left my brain so she's Book Girl until it sticks. She's nice, a little weird, and her boyfriend is a bit of a drip, but she's alright. Could use a better taste in men. Also, she has a horseshoe outside her house so I couldn't even go in. She was all, oh why are you just standing outside come on in, and, you know. Demon?? Hello? And she wouldn't take it down or anything, even after I told her I didn't want her soul anyways (what would I do with it? Frame it?) so we talked outside. She said I ought to meet the Antichrist kid, Adam, since I'd "get" him or something. I probably would, from what I hear he's alright. So I guess tomorrow I will lie to a young boy's parents to get them to trust me. I think I'll just say I'm Book Girl's cousin or whatever. Do his parents even know her? I have no idea. Her absolute bore of a boyfriend contributed nothing to the conversation, in case you were wondering. **

**This is long enough. I'll be done now.**

**Miss you**

**Crowley**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inventor of sushi was Hanaya Yohei and if you don't think Aziraphale was besties with the guy what are you doing
> 
> Also them talking about the same things in their letters 2 each other,,,,romance


	9. letters (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on updating, I'm in a couple of gift exchanges and I've been trying to get those fics finished up! But here's a chapter after....forever

_My dearest Crowley,_

_Time certainly does fly here! I suppose, though, they've no use for it. Only serves to confuse me more, I can't even tell when it's night or day! Honestly, this place could use a few clocks, maybe a calendar or two. That isn't the only thing I'd put in here if I were in charge of decoration, far from it, but it's what's on my mind right now. I can't help but wonder how long it's been for you. _

_This is changing the subject a bit, but I managed to suffer through every book they let me have in my office. It was very nice of them to do so, and I didn't want the gesture to go unappreciated. However, Heaven's taste in literature is...lacking, as you could assume. At least three of them were Bibles, one was a children's Bible, and the other were script books for various plays or musicals which were the least offending thing in there. Two of them were for The Sound of Music however. I'm sure I'll be reading them again, as I've got nothing else to do in my free time, which is getting shorter these days. I think, or else they just feel shorter. Never mind it, I just hope I'll not come back able to recite Scripture. _

_I know you won't believe me, but there are quite a few pleasant angels to spend time around. Not Gabriel or any higher-ups, but the ones that stay down on Earth mostly. I've sort of fallen in with a group of guardian angels who are off duty for a while. They're really a sweet bunch, can't have been made before humans really started taking off. A couple of them call me "Dad" which I think is humorous. They are almost like younger siblings nowadays, and I can't help but think I'll miss them. But that's nothing to worry about, they'll be back on Earth even before I am I suppose! I know they'll never say it outright, but I can tell they never wanted the world to end either. Spending most of one's time down there seems to have an effect on anyone, it seems. The way they speak of it, of all the different places they've gone and people they've met, the things they've seen...they love it. That's all there is to it, really. Perhaps I'll have to introduce you. I have a feeling you'd get on right away. _

_I can't believe I forgot to tell you the good news until now! I've been moved to a general janitorial position, which means I won't be standing above complete nothingness all day long! Whatever poor dear got landed with that job now, I'll be keeping them in my thoughts. This is another difficult job, however, since Heaven is incredibly clean just by its nature. I don't know what they expect me to do, but I find enough crumbs and such lying about to keep me busy between breaks. Quite honestly, most of the time I just walk around the halls because there is literally nothing to clean. Now, if I were janitor of Hell, I could see myself being a bit useful. As it is, it's simply boring. _

_You'll be please to know I've acquired quite the collection of little desk plants. You'll think me silly, but I've named them all and I talk to them sometimes. Having them around reminds me of you. I do miss you, dear. I'd gotten so used to just seeing you around, that it's nearly unbearable now that I can't, I don't know, call you and go out to lunch. Or invite you over the shop for a few drinks. How did we ever stand being apart in those early years? Now, I don't want you getting all worried when you read these, I'm perfectly alright. The tasks they put me to are boring and meaningless, yes. And I miss you a great amount. But I'm perfectly fine, my dear, nothing to worry about. I've got my group of little friends and my gaggle of plants to keep me company while I'm up here. I am completely content. _

_I can't wait to see you again,_

_Aziraphale_

_~*~_

**Angel,**

**Hope you don't mind the recent increase in shitty doodles on the letters. I get bored. **

**Anyways, you'll want actual news about my life and stuff. I've been talking with that Anathema girl more lately. She's pretty cool. You would love her, and go chat about book and drink tea all day. Gag. But she's actually into cool things like the occult and all. And it only took her a few years, but the horseshoe is down! So I've been inside the house now. You would also love the house, it's all cutesy and shit. Double gag. But I go over there sometimes and we hang out and talk about stuff. Her boyfriend, Newt, he's less boring I guess. I think I've just gotten used to him. **

**Those little kids though, I love them. The parents think I'm Anathema's cousin, and I'm good with the kids, so I hang out with them whenever they come over her place. They're official teenagers and they're so chaotic. The Pepper girl is taking some martial arts classes and all the boys always ask to fight her and she always kicks their asses. My personal opinion is that they think the martial arts thing is cool. They try to get me to fight her, but I wouldn't. You know me, I'd snap the poor girl in half. Wensleydale is in the student government, so they all like to bully poor Adam a little, say that he isn't the leader of the group anymore and that it's got to be Wensley. Adam doesn't mind, he's a good sport. They did have a wrestling match for leadership of the gang, but it turned into a wrestling contest between everyone and Pepper won. Not a lot else is going on with them, though. They like to ask about you sometimes, they're under the impression that you are a lot cooler than you actually are. Apparently you showed off a bit by owning a flaming sword. Now I have to set the record straight for these kids. I can't believe you Aziraphale. Absolutely horrid, lying to kids and putting them under the impression that you aren't the least cool being on this planet.**

**The bookshop is going. I mean, there's no actual business happening so I don't know what you expect. Some Karen came in the other day and made a big fuss over a certain book costing about €72. I told her, I said this is a very old book and it's actually signed by the author, so it's very valuable and that's why it's expensive. Reasonable, right? No, this woman was all "it's just A Christmas Carol, they have it over at Barnes and Noble for way cheaper, I've no idea how economics works". And so I tell her to sod off and go to the other damn bookstore and stop making a fuss over a reasonable price (which is a surprise coming from you) and she said we won't get her business ever again. So I think I'm doing well. There's a few people who come in to study or just poke around and I let them. Loitering and all. Very evil activity. **

**I also hope you don't mind that I've moved a few plants over to the shop. It's a lot easier that way, to just have them here instead of going back and forth all day long just for a few minutes to water them. An added bonus is that my yelling at them scares people off. Should've brought them here earlier, honestly. If you're wondering, they're doing alright. A couple of them are falling short, and if they don't get their act together then it's down the garbage chute they go. **

**Get back here,**

**Crowley**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should only be a few more chapters formatted like this, if anyone finds it annoying
> 
> Also the reason why Crowley doesn't fight Pepper is because he's afraid of getting his ass whooped by a 13 year old

**Author's Note:**

> I'm shit at angst, I just like happiness. 
> 
> Zira is just an anxious dude who cares about his friend send text


End file.
